The day is young

So I had a rehearsal this morning from 6:30-8. Surprisingly it wasn't completely painful waking up, which is not normal for me.

I actually really love the morning. The problem is that I'm a night owl; I've learned that since my first sleep over with Felicia. The night was always so exciting and mysterious. Staying up past "bedtime" was one way to foster my inhibited rebellious streak. I could and still can stay up all night and run on empty. I never want to sleep. Getting home at midnight on a weekend seems so early to me. But because of this, I often miss the glorious secrets the morning has to offer. On those dumb facebook or myspace (whoa old school) quizzes (not like I ever take them...) I always prefer sunrises to sunsets. Sunsets just seem so cliche and tired. In the Odyssey the morning is so accurately portrayed as the "rosy-fingered dawn." I like that. The morning is so optimistic and beckoning for adventure. It's a different kind of quiet than the night quiet. The night has a more ominous sound of silence. The night is alone and worn out, and it lurks to capture you in its insomnia. But the morning is just so...fresh. The air is crisp and clear. Nature has awaken--just the people sleep. There is solemn energy all around in abundance, and you are the first to partake of it.

I got to partake of it today sans groggy eyes or stubbornly tired brain/body, and it was lovely.

Anyway, I came home, ran, showered, ate breakfast, did my religion homework, and it's only noon! I'm feeling pretty good at this point.

Have a great day everyone!